


Undercover Operations

by 852_Prospect_Archivist



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: AU, Alternate Universes, Crossovers: xfiles, M/M, Series: Sentinel in Love series #7, crossovers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-10
Updated: 2013-05-10
Packaged: 2017-12-11 02:51:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,940
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/793214
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/852_Prospect_Archivist/pseuds/852_Prospect_Archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cascade's finest find themselves working with the Feds on a drug case.<br/>This story is a sequel to Hide and Go Seek.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Undercover Operations

### UNDERCOVER OPERATIONS

by ET

Disclaimers: The X-Files are the property of Chris Carter, Ten Thirteen Productions and FOX Broadcasting. The Sentinel belongs to Pet Fly Productions and Paramount. No copyright infringement is intended, even though, technically, it is. This is just for fun. Certainly not for profit.

Warnings: There's a little bit of violence and a hint of sex to bother delicate sensibilities. I don't do explicit sex scenes. Sorry, but that's my personal quirk. There is a slight reference to BLIND MAN'S BLUFF. This is NOT an X-File. I don't know that much about the X-Files so if I get anything wrong -- deal with it.

Summary: Cascade's finest find themselves working with the Feds on a drug case.

Notes: This is an A/U series. As such... Morgan is my own character and I have a history for him that I've touched on in this series. Maybe someday I'll actually get to write it. Please don't use him without my permission. You'll regret it. He has a tendency to take over your mind. But what else can you expect from a telepath?

Words between colons : : are heard mentally.

* * *

FBI Headquarters Washington, DC Tuesday, 11 am 

* * *

Special Agents Fox Mulder and Dana Scully were nervously awaiting the return of Assistant Director Walter Skinner to his office. Both agents had been behaving themselves lately, but they still had their heads bent close together as they spoke, like errant children trying to think of a reason why they would be called into the principal's office. When the office door opened and Skinner came into the room, they straightened, guiltily.

Skinner never even noticed their reactions as he crossed to his desk and sat, tossing the folder he'd been carrying onto the top of the pile of papers there.

"You're probably wondering why I called you here?" he said, expression deadpan. Mulder couldn't help the grin that crossed his face . Seeing it, Skinner grimaced, realizing what he'd said. "I received a call from the Director of the Northwest Division, John Kersey. He has a touchy situation. One of his agents has apparently gone rogue."

Mulder and Scully looked grim. Mulder couldn't help but wonder if his old enemies, the Consortium, had anything to do with this. After all, just because you were paranoid, didn't mean they weren't out to get you.

Meanwhile, Scully wanted to know, "Do they know who it is, sir?"

"They're not sure, Agent Scully. They only recently discovered several thousand dollars worth of cocaine due to be destroyed was missing. A quiet audit of the storage facility showed that other drugs were missing as well. The drugs had a street value of over a million dollars. Since the only people who had access to the facility were upper echelon agents, Kersey didn't want to use any of his people to check on the theft. He called me for help, figuring that an agent from so far away would be better to investigate the problem. I thought of you two because of your unique slant on conspiracies. Because of the delicate nature of this case, you are working under Director Kersey."

Mulder frowned. He didn't like the sound of this.

"You'll be working out of Cascade, Washington. That's where the storage facility the drugs were taken from is located," Skinner said, drumming his finger of one hand on the folder before him. "Director Kersey has made arrangements with the mayor of Cascade to give you the assistance of as many of the city's detectives as you need to get this done. The personnel and arrest records of Cascade's best detectives are in this folder. Choose who you want and they'll be made available to you. Just choose wisely."

"Do I take it, we're to choose sparingly, Sir?" Mulder asked, as Scully took the folder from Skinner. She would skim over it first. Mulder would probably read it on the plane.

Skinner nodded, approvingly. "The fewer in on this the safer it will be. Here are your plane tickets. Be very careful. And Mulder?"

"Sir?"

"Don't find any aliens? Please?"

Mulder gave him his usual sardonic half smile. "I'll try, sir."

* * *

Major Crimes Office Cascade, WA Friday, 10 am 

* * *

Simon Banks hung up his phone with sigh and looked out the window at the nearly deserted office. The bullpen was quiet for once. Most of the detectives were out on cases. There were only a couple in the office, mostly doing paperwork. He was going to have to disturb one of them. Deciding that he needed the exercise, Simon walked out of his office.

"Jim?"

When he heard his name, Jim looked up. He hadn't heard his captain walk up. Not expecting trouble, he'd had his hearing turned down to normal levels. Well, normal for everyone else, maybe. For the Sentinel, it was low.

Sentinels were the guardians of the tribe in a time long past. They possessed enhanced senses -- sight, hearing, smell, taste and touch all magnified well beyond the norm. While in the army Jim's latent abilities had surged to the fore when he needed them during a mission in Peru that had gone wrong. After his rescue, his enhanced senses subsided to nearly normal levels for five years. Now Jim Ellison used his enhanced senses to fight crime in Cascade, Washington.

"What's up Simon?" he asked, noticing his Captain's expression.

"Where's Sandburg?"

"He has a class this morning but he'll be in later. Why?"

When Jim's senses returned to the level they'd been in while in Peru, Jim had thought he was going insane. He had gone to the hospital for tests and met a young doctor who informed him that he didn't need tests. All he needed was to talk to a certain person at Ranier University. Jim had gone there and discovered the young doctor who had directed him to the University was Blair Sandburg, Anthropology graduate student and probably, the world's only expert on Sentinels.

After convincing Jim to let him study the Sentinel, Blair had become Jim's unofficial partner. The partnership had quickly expanded to full friendship.

Simon accepted the strange partnership because he had no choice. One of the drawbacks to using a Sentinel sense was the danger of a "zone out." Zone outs were when Jim became so focused on one sense that he tuned out the world around him, forgetting even to breath sometimes. A very dangerous practice for a police officer chasing criminals. Since Jim trusted Blair, not to mention the fact that Sandburg was the only one who had any real understanding of Sentinels, Blair became Jim's unofficial partner and the Sentinel's Guide. After a while, the young man had wormed his way into the affections of most of the detectives of Major Crimes.

"The Chief of Police has just been informed that two FBI agents are coming to talk to you and Sandburg."

"Why us, Simon?," Jim groused, tossing his pen onto the desk as he leaned back in his chair. "We haven't had any cases that would interest the FBI lately."

"I don't know, Jim. The Chief said they specifically asked for you two. You're to be pulled off whatever your doing to work with them. Whatever this is about, it's important."

"Do I get a last meal first?" Jim asked, sarcastically.

"Since they'll be here sometime this afternoon, I would say so," Simon said fighting back a grin. "Until then, just keep on doing paper work."

"Oh, joy," Jim sighed, looking at the huge stack of folders in his in box.

"Well, it's your own fault, Ellison. You can't rely on Sandburg to do them all." Simon grinned at the disgusted look his best detective shot his way.

* * *

Major Crimes, 1 pm 

* * *

"Captain Banks?" 

Simon was out in the bullpen talking to Detective Franks when he heard his name called. As Simon turned, Franks took the chance offered and left. Simon saw a petite redhead in a dark blue business suit coming toward him. Just behind her was a morose looking, brown-haired man in a black suit. Their attitude and the stiff suits screamed "Fed" to Simon. The woman's next words confirmed it.

"I'm Special Agent Dana Scully and this is my partner Special Agent Fox Mulder. We're with the FBI."

"Oh, yes. I was told you were coming."

Before Simon could apologize for Jim and Blair not being there -- they walked in. Simon's eyes widened in surprise when he saw Jim's lover, Morgan, trailing behind Simon's best team. That young man hardly ever came to the station.

"They were no different than they are today," Morgan was saying.

"They have to be," Blair argued, shifting a large book he held in his hands to a safer position. "This was, what... ?"

"1780," Morgan said, with a sigh. "Blair, people are people. The basics don't change. Yes, the tribal cultures change as the years go by, but the people don't. It's basic psychology."

"Do you think we could shelve this discussion for now?" Jim said, catching sight of the two people standing beside Simon. They had to be the Feds he was waiting for.

Simon caught Jim's eye and called out, "Ellison. Sandburg. My office."

"Excuse me, Captain Banks," Mulder said, an odd expression on his face. "Could that other gentleman please come as well?"

Scully looked at her partner with suspicion. What was he up to, now, she wondered.

Once everyone was ensconced in Simon's office, the Captain made introductions and gestured for the Feds to take control.

"Our office received a call from John Kersey, the Director of the Northwest Field Office, requesting our assistance," Scully said, launching right into the case for expediencies sake. She explained about the discovery of the missing drugs and how Kersey was concerned, for the sake of his innocent agents, that this investigation be kept as close to the vest as possible.

"If I may, sir," Jim said, feeling a little confused, already. "Why bring Morgan into this?"

"I'm curious about that, myself," Simon admitted, perching on the corner of his desk.

"Your cue, Mulder," Scully murmured. Mulder could tell she was just as curious.

"Scully and I have managed to trace the stolen drugs to a man named Henry Lancelot." He looked at Morgan who had visible started at his words. "Is something wrong?"

"Don't mind me, Agent Mulder. Please, go on." Jim gave him an odd look to which Morgan mentally replied, :Tell you later. Much later. It's a long story.:

Jim gave him a slight nod of agreement. It was one of the advantages to being in love with a telepath of Morgan's strength. One could carry on conversations unheard by anyone else in the room.

"Henry Lancelot is a practicing homosexual, strongly attracted to blond men," Mulder said, resuming his narrative. At that, everyone's eyes went to Morgan as he stood partly behind Jim and Blair. He looked calmly back at them. "Director Kersey has given us the go ahead to put together a team from Cascade P.D.'s detectives. For obvious reasons, he wants this team to be as small as possible. After going over the records, we chose the team of Detective Ellison and Mr. Sandburg."

"We had a few reservations about Mr. Sandburg," Scully confessed. "He is a civilian. But we've read good reports about his work with Detective Ellison."

Blair was so pleased to hear that, he could barely keep himself still.

"We decided that we could use Ellison as the buyer. To lull Lancelot we thought we'd have Ellison's character be gay, as well."

"With Mr. Sandburg as Detective Ellison's boyfriend," Scully added, her soft voice sounding loud in the suddenly quiet office. "With his hair dyed blond, Mr. Sandburg might even attract Henry."

"Dye? My hair? No way, man!" Blair exclaimed, hands darting up to cover his long hair, protectively. "You know what that stuff does to your hair."

"Shut up, Sandburg," Simon growled, automatically. Silently, he was skeptical. Simon was having trouble with the cover story the agents had concocted. Oh, not the part about Ellison posing as a homosexual, that would be easy since he knew Ellison actually was bisexual. What Simon hated was involving Sandburg. The kid was only a police observer, not Ellison's actual partner. Even though, thanks to Ellison's Sentinel abilities, he needed Sandburg to work with him.

Without seeming to have heard the exchange, Mulder continued, hazel eyes meeting Morgan's unusual golden ones. "But after seeing you, I've come to the conclusion that you would be a much better choice."

Simon shook his head and said no. "Morgan Chandler does not work for the police department in any capacity."

Mulder, eyes wide, looked at Morgan. Morgan shrugged one shoulder, as he confirmed the unexpected news. "Sorry. I own a nightclub."

Mulder looked at Scully. "He owns a nightclub," he intoned, mournfully.

Scully shot him her patented "shut up, Mulder," look. "That would explain why we weren't told about him." "Oh, man," Blair moaned, as an aside that only Jim could hear. "That means I have to dye my hair." Jim ignored his Guide's complaints with the ease of long practice.

Mulder tried to change Simon's mind. "He would work much better, Captain. I know it's not usual procedure, but this is hardly a usual case."

"This is not an X-File, Mulder" Scully hissed, sharply pulling on Mulder's jacket. Mulder gave her a shrug for an apology.

Of course Jim heard that. He idly wondered what she was talking about.

"What's the difference between my doing it and Blair doing it?" Morgan asked, his voice mild.

Simon grimaced his insistence. "You are a civilian, Mr. Chandler..."

Morgan quietly pointed out that so was Blair. "Forgive me, Captain, but I am not exactly helpless. In fact I would be a better choice to do this than Blair."

"He is better at defending himself than Sandburg, sir," Jim said, reluctantly backing up his lover.

"And he fits the profile, man," Blair added, as well.

"And if he gets hurt?" Simon asked, realizing that he was losing the fight.

"Better me than Blair, don't you think?" Morgan commented.

"I'll be dead no matter who gets hurt," Simon muttered, glowering at Jim.

Scully and Mulder wondered about the relationship between these four men.

With a sigh, Simon realized that Jim wasn't going to help keep his lover out of this. With a grunt of annoyance, he gave in.

"Captain, I have a confession to make" Morgan said once the Feds had left. "I have certain talents that will make this little job a bit easier."

"And what talents might that be?" Simon snarled, leaning back into his chair so far, it creaked a protest. "I thought you told me he wasn't a Sentinel, Jim?"

"No, I'm not a Sentinel," Morgan said, with a quirk to his mouth. "I'm a telepath."

Simon looked at him as though waiting for the rest of it. "A what?" he asked, flatly.

"A telepath, Simon," Jim said, trying hard not to laugh at his bosses expression. "You know. Mind reader. Psychic. The sixth sense."

"Very funny, Ellison," Simon snapped.

"It's not a joke, Captain," Morgan calmly informed him. "I can read minds as easily as you read a newspaper."

"Easier, man. With you, reading minds is instinctive. People have to learn the language before they can read a newspaper. A better comparison would be talking. Besides, think about it, Simon, Morgan is a telepath, man. He knows my mind after all this time and can, if necessary, relay information through me," Blair explained, sliding into lecture mode without thinking. "From the sound of this case, using a wire might be too dangerous."

"Thank you, Darwin," Jim said, shutting him up. Blair gave him a mock glare to let his Sentinel know he wasn't intimidated. "He's right, though, Simon. This could easily work in our favor."

"But nothing he got would be admissible in court," Simon protested, shelving the problem of whether or not it was even true for the moment.

"No, but it would give us an idea where to look for admissible evidence," Jim pointed out.

Simon reluctantly agreed, muttering something about Sentinels and telepaths as his best detective, the police observer and a civilian left his office.

:It's not all that bad.:

"Want to bet," Simon growled. His eyes widened as he realized that there was no one in the office with him to have spoken. "Oh, god. Now I'm hearing things."

:You know you're not hearing things,: the voice said, sounding like Morgan. :At least not the way you mean. I am speaking to you. This was the only way I could prove what I say.:

"Do you do this to Jim and Blair?" Simon asked. He realized that if anyone heard him talking to himself they'd think he'd finally snapped, but he really didn't care. For all that this was weirding him out, it was interesting as well.

:I have done it to Jim. A bit,: Morgan confessed. :He's still getting used to it so I try not to overwhelm him. And I won't do it to you all that much. Only as necessary.:

"Thank you," Simon said, softly. He had a lot to think about.

:You're welcome, Simon.:

* * *

Motel Six, 6 pm 

* * *

Mulder and Scully waited until their dinner was delivered to Scully's room before talking over the day's events.

"Scully, what do you think about Mr. Chandler?" Mulder asked, about halfway through the meal.

"Now's a fine time to ask me, Mulder," Scully said, spearing a cherry tomato from her salad.

"Yeah, I know. But it was kind of a spur of the moment decision." Mulder taking a final bite of his steak.

"I know," Scully sighed. "He does seem perfect for the role. I wonder where he's from? I've never seen such unusual coloring."

"Outside of a comic book, you mean?" Mulder chuckled at her expression. "I know. Mostly, I guess, I was wondering about his relationship with Captain Banks, Detective Ellison and Mr. Sandburg."

"There is something going on there," Scully said, thoughtfully.

Mulder nodded. "We'll have to ask Captain Banks about it."

"Tomorrow morning would be a good time to ask," Scully proposed, pushing aside the remains of her salad. "In the meantime, I'm going to see what I can find about our Mr. Chandler."

Several hours search yielded very little in the way of information regarding one Morgan Chandler. A fact which surprised the agents a great deal.

"This is impossible," Scully said, as yet another search reached a dead end.

"The man is very well hidden," Mulder said, with a frown. "Too well hidden.

"He doesn't even really own the KNIGHT RAMPANT. He's listed as part owner with a Jefferson Talent," Scully said, frustrated.

"I still say we need to talk to Banks about this."

"We'll do it tomorrow, Mulder. It's late and I, for one, am still jet lagged."

"Okay, I get the hint, Scully," Mulder laughed, grabbing up his jacket from the back of his chair.

"I'll see you tomorrow," Scully called out as her partner left for his own room. "Try to sleep tonight, Mulder."

"I'll try, Scully," Mulder promised, with a wry lift of the eyebrows. "But I can't promise anything. Want to stay up and keep me company if I can't sleep?"

"Good night, Mulder," Scully said, fighting to keep the laughter out of her voice. He never gave up. That was why she liked him, she guessed. At least, it was one reason.

* * *

Saturday 

* * *

Simon was doing the laundry and generally enjoying a rare Saturday off, when there came a knock at his door. Upon opening it, he groaned.

"Don't tell me things have moved this fast?" he asked the couple standing there.

"No, Captain, they haven't. We just wanted to ask you some questions," Mulder said with his usual smirk.

With a sigh, Simon waved them in.

"We did some research last night, sir, and we found a few interesting facts." Scully told Simon. "We were surprised to see how little information there was about Mr. Chandler."

"Chandler is a private citizen," Simon told her, somewhat gruffly. "He pays his bills, keeps on top of his taxes. I don't think I've ever heard of him breaking the law by so much as a speeding ticket. There is no reason for him to have much of a history."

"Everyone has a history, Captain," Mulder pointed out. "School records, at least."

"The man is not an American citizen," Simon told them. "He was born in Britain. He traveled all over the world before settling here in Cascade a few years back."

"Interesting," Mulder murmured.

"Who told you this, Captain," Scully wondered.

Simon sighed. "Ellison and Sandburg told me. And before you ask, yes, I trust them."

"There is a relationship between Ellison and Chandler, isn't there?" Mulder said, trying for a different tactic.

"Ellison's private life is just that -- private." Simon sighed, realizing that he was going to have to explain. "But yes, they are close."

"Closer than just friends?" Mulder pressed.

Simon shot him a jaundiced look. "You're not going to let this go, are you, Agent Mulder?" Mulder's knowing expression made Simon want to punch him. Instead, he answered the question. "You couldn't have picked a better pair of men to play your role. Ellison and Chandler are lovers."

"There's nothing in Ellison's record about that," Scully remarked, softly.

"No, there's not," Simon affirmed. "Morgan won't allow it. Ellison's working on him, though."

"Chandler won't allow it?" Scully asked, shooting a puzzled glance at Mulder. He merely contented himself with a shrug. He didn't understand it, either.

"Morgan doesn't want anything that will interfere with Jim's life."

"And as a police officer, coming out would definitely do that," Mulder commented, nodding.

"Can they work together in a dangerous situation, Captain?" Scully asked, concern in her green eyed gaze.

"I would have to say yes, even though I've never seen them do it," Simon said, firmly. "In fact, my guess would be that you couldn't have picked a better team than Ellison, Sandburg and Chandler. All three men would sacrifice anything for the others."

"Let's hope it doesn't come down to that," Mulder countered.

* * *

One week later 

* * *

Using the dealer who had originally grassed on Lancelot, Jim made an arrangement to meet with Henry to talk about a major drug buy. Henry agreed with the restrictions that they meet alone, except for one other person each, in one of Cascade's busiest malls. If anyone else was along, Henry would abort the meet. 

Posing as a drug dealer, there was no problem with Jim carrying his gun. He'd wanted Morgan to carry one, but the golden blond refused. Blair quietly convinced Jim not to push it. He reminded his partner that, considering Morgan's true age, the man was probably dangerous enough without one. Once that was resolved, Simon told Jim he wanted them to be wearing a wire so they could record every word for the trial. Jim and Morgan presented a united front against that idea, saying, if cornered, they could explain the gun as simple protection. Being caught with a wire was an admission that they were cops.

Jim reminded Simon about the Golden case and how he was nearly killed because the bad guys had a device that detected Jim's wire. Only Blair's quick thinking with the laser pointer had saved him, not to mention giving him enough time to think up an excuse for being wired.

"Simon, I am not putting Morgan in danger that way," Jim adamantly protested, shaking his head.

Simon reluctantly conceded defeat.

The meet was to take place in the mall's food court. Jim and Morgan were the first to arrive. They chose the last table in the row running along the escalator. After they sat, Mulder and Scully arrive with trays containing their lunch. Jim smiled when he saw his guide join the agents a few minutes later. Blair greeted Mulder and Scully with the effusiveness of someone unexpectedly meeting old friends.

Blair, Mulder and Scully sat at a table that, while somewhat obscured by pots of plants, was still within easy sight of Jim and Morgan's table.

Having extreme difficulty just sitting and waiting, Blair was soon bored. "So, what do you two specialize in? Kidnaping? Murder?"

"Actually, Agent Scully and I are assigned to the X-Files," Mulder replied, blandly.

"X-Files?" Blair repeated, frowning. "What are the X-Files? Pornography cases?"

"The X-Files," Mulder answered with a genuine smile. He liked Blair Sandburg. Unusual in someone he'd just met. Mulder sometimes felt that he could write a textbook on paranoia. "deal with the unexplained. Paranormal phenomena, alien abduction and the like."

Scully thought it interesting that at the words, "paranormal phenomena," Blair Sandburg would freeze. Well, at least as much as he could, anyway. Scully had already realized the grad student had more energy than a 5 year old on a sugar high.

"Really? Paranormal phenomena?" Blair repeated, trying to remain calm. Blair prayed to every major deity, and many minor ones, that these people did not know about Sentinels or a certain golden telepath. Please.

Scully decided it was time for a change of topic. "You're a grad student, Mr. Sandburg. What's your field of study?"

"Hey, man. Call me Blair, okay? I'm an anthropologist."

"What's an anthropologist doing in the police department?" Scully wondered.

Mulder grinned at her. "Why, Scully. Law enforcement is the perfect closed society."

"That's right," Blair said, excitedly waving his hands about. He was soon off and running with his favorite subject. "...and because not much has been done on such a.... He's here."

Mulder and Scully blinked at Blair, not quite understanding. Then Scully saw two men approach Jim and Morgan's table. She was glad they had backed Jim in his refusal to wear a wire when she saw the man who was obviously the muscle, wave a detection device over Jim and Morgan's bodies. "He's more paranoid than the Lone Gunmen, Mulder," Scully murmured to her partner

Softly, Mulder told her, "He has to be, Scully. He's partners with law enforcement people who break the law. It's a bad combination."

* * *

As it got closer to the time to meet with Henry, the food court got more crowded and Morgan became more and more nervous. As a sensitive telepath, it was a very dangerous place for him to be. An accidental touch and he could find himself buried in someone else's memories. He might not be able to sort it all out and integrate it into his own personality. In which case, he could be lost.

"Do you want me to get you something to drink, Sunshine?" Jim asked, quietly. He was getting concerned as Morgan's nervousness increased at the same rate as the size of the lunch crowd.

Morgan shook his head, as he looked around. In a voice pitched only for Sentinel ears, he whispered, "Someone is thinking about us."

"Who?" Jim asked, quietly.

Morgan winced and rubbed his forehead between his eyes. "I'm not sure. There are so many people..."

"Excuse me, do you mind if we share your table?"

Jim looked up and saw a thin man, watery blue eyes sheltered by wire rimmed glasses. He was about Jim's own age with lank brown hair, worn in a shag cut. Thanks to mug shots, Jim recognized him as Henry Lancelot. Standing beside him was a man that screamed "muscle" to the detective.

"Be my guest." After the two men had seated themselves, Jim introduced himself and Morgan. "I'm Jim Edwards and this is Morgan Fields. You can call us Jim and Morgan."

"You may call me Henry. My associate needs no introduction. My dear, you grace us with your presence," he said, grandiosely, as he fawned over Morgan's hand. "I hope you don't mind. But we don't want our conversation to be overheard, now. Do we?"

Henry's associate had pulled out a wire detection device and was running it over Jim and Morgan. After Henry received the all clear, the negotiation began.

As predicted, Henry Lancelot was obviously attracted to Morgan. All during the discussions with Jim about the purchase price of the cocaine Jim said he wanted, the man shamelessly flirted with Morgan. Morgan played up to him, much to Jim's disgust, by coming off as the cliched empty headed blond.

Taking advantage of Henry's fascination, Morgan leaned forward onto his folded arms as he asked a question. "I know this sounds -- naive but why did you want to meet in a mall? I would think the chances of being overheard would be prohibitive."

"That is a very intelligent question." Jim rolled his eyes as Henry gushed. "You're quite correct. Our chances of being overheard are quite large. The chances of the police getting someone in here without our seeing them is equally high."

"Then why do it?" Morgan asked, tossing his hair out of his eyes with a practiced move. Seeing Henry's expression, Jim had to bite back a smile. God, his lover was shameless. Not to mention, good at getting what he wanted. Must be due to all those centuries of practice.

"Because there is no way we can be overheard by anyone sitting close by," Henry told him, taking one of Morgan's hands in his and stroking the back it. "It would be difficult to filter out all this noise off a tape, as well."

"But it can be done," the Sentinel said as Morgan skillfully removed his hand from Henry's. "Enhancement..."

"Yes," Henry said, gesturing dismissively. "Even so, much would be lost. Tell me something, Jim. Where did you come from?" Henry asked, as if Jim's comment reminded the drug lord of his presence. "I admit to finding your abrupt appearance a bit of a shock."

They had prepared for this eventuality. Once they had developed the plan, Mulder and Scully had contacted their boss in DC. Skinner talked to an undercover officer working with a certain mobster. He'd given them the mobster's name to use as bait. The undercover man would field any enquiries about people with the cover names he'd been given.

"We came from back east. I worked for Joey Fuscorelli," Jim explained, taking Morgan's hand away from Henry's and enfolding it in his. "Also known as Fussy Joey. Fussy Joey didn't know I was gay. Fussy Joey doesn't like fags. Fussy Joey kills fags for fun. When I was accidentally outed, I decided it was time to relocate."

Eyes on Morgan once more, Henry told Jim, "Tell you what. I'll do you a favor while I decide if I want to sell you the drugs in the quantities you're asking for. I'm have a little party this weekend. You're invited. Don't tell anyone where you're going and don't bring anything. Everything you need, clothes, toiletries, everything, will be provided. If your story holds up, we'll talk more. If not..."

Jim smiled, coldly. If their story didn't hold up, they would just disappear. "No problem."

"How do we get to your place?" Morgan asked, softly.

"Don't worry, sweetheart," Henry smiled gently at Morgan. "You meet me at Cascade Municipal Park on Friday at sunup. Same rules as here."

"Just one little thing," Jim said, as Henry stood. His voice was icy. "Keep your hands off Morgan. He's mine. And I don't share."

"You stay here for 15 minutes after we leave. If you don't. Deal's off and I disappear." Henry smirked at Jim before turning and walking away.

* * *

Major Crimes 

* * *

"The problem is," Scully stated when she heard the restrictions. "Just how are you to keep in contact if Henry is using sophisticated detection equipment?"

"Um, I might be able to help," Blair said, cautiously. "I have a friend who's majoring in electronics. She built a one way transmitter designed to be picked up over a radio like the ones used by the police. It's small enough to be hidden in a tie tack and only activated when pressed. No one would know it was there since it's not working all the time."

"What's the range?" Mulder asked, intrigued. Looking at Morgan, Blair gave them a figure of several miles. Mulder nodded, relieved. "That might work."

"Just remember," Blair cautioned, "It IS still experimental. There might be problems with it."

Scully was also keeping an eye on Morgan. Something about him roused her doctors instincts. She didn't like how quiet he was, nor how pale he seemed to be. "Are you all right?"

Jim had just returned with a cup of hot tea from Blair's stash. He smiled at the red haired agent as he handed the cup to Morgan. "He's all right. He doesn't like crowds."

"You're agoraphobic or claustrophobic?" Scully asked, concerned.

"Whatever the term is for an extreme dislike of crowds -- inside or out," Morgan said, with a slight quirk to his mouth. He noticed Blair duck his head and knew Jim's guide was hiding his grin.

"And you volunteered for this job?" Mulder asked, wonder tinging his voice.

"Most of the time, it's under control," Morgan said, with a nonchalant shrug. "Today's just a bad day."

"Are you sure you'll be okay doing this?" Simon asked, with definite concern.

"I'll be fine, Captain," Morgan said, running a hand through his long hair. "Whatever type of crowd Henry Lancelot has at his place, it can't be nearly as big as in that mall at lunch time."

Scully and Mulder headed back to their motel to rest. After they'd gone, Simon brought up another problem. "Sandburg, I can't let you borrow experimental equipment for something as important as this."

"Oh, don't worry, Captain," Blair quickly reassured him. "I'm not borrowing anything. Actually, there's nothing to borrow."

"You lied?" Simon asked, eyes wide at Blair's show of chutzpa.

"We're going to use my telepathy, Captain," Morgan informed him with a smile. "All you have to do is make sure that Mulder and Scully stay away from Blair as much as possible. Otherwise, they might notice that he doesn't have a transmitter."

Simon shook his head, moaning. "This is getting too complicated."

"Actually, sir, it's one of the easiest cases I've ever worked on," Jim said. As Simon gave him a jaundiced look, he explained, "With Morgan, we don't have to worry about jamming devices or electronic breakdowns. The information will get through, regardless."

"Hopefully," Morgan murmured before taking a sip of his tea.

"The only thing we have to worry about is the fact that we can't tape anything," Simon pointed out with a growl.

"Well, yeah," Jim shrugged. "But what do you want, Simon? Perfection?"

"You've been spending too much time with Sandburg, Ellison," Simon snarled, mock angrily.

* * *

Cascade Municipal Park Friday, 6:15 am 

* * *

As agreed, Henry meet Jim and Morgan at Cascade's biggest park. After a quick search of their persons with the electronic gadget, they were loaded into the limo. The windows were so darkly tinted that seeing out was impossible. But that didn't stop Morgan from getting directions directly from the driver and relaying it to Blair in one of the cars following miles behind them.

The Sentinel and his lover were taken to a huge estate on a cliff in the outskirts of Cascade. The pale blue mansion, set far back from the main road, was an excellent reproduction of antebellum architecture. It looked like the builder was trying to bring a touch of the warm south to the cold, wet north.

Once inside, a proud Henry Lancelot gave the two men a short tour of the mansion's ground floor. To the right of the foyer was a formal living room. Beyond that was a formal dining room with a table big enough to seat 20. The chairs were plushly padded, and the chandelier sparkled in the sunlight streaming in from the huge picture window at the opposite end of the room.

To the left of the foyer was an indoor pool, surrounded by pots of flowers and trees, with a glass ceiling to let in plenty of natural light during the day. A well stocked bar was situated at the far wall. A lot of good looking, young, blond men wearing practically nothing added to the decoration of the pool. Morgan made a point of telling Jim to put eyes back in his head as soon as soon as they walked in.

Henry laughed like an expansive host. "You can have any young man you want, Jim. They're all available."

Putting an arm around Morgan, Jim hugged him tight. "Thanks, but I only want Morgan."

Morgan smiled widely at his lover. "Good answer, Jim." as Henry laughed once again.

Snagging a servant, Henry had them shown to their suite. "I know you will want to -- freshen up a bit after your long trip. Come down afterward and enjoy the pool. In any case, cocktails are at six o'clock. Dinner is at eight. Don't be late."

Their suite was sumptuous. There was a huge fireplace in the sitting room, which was decorated in shades of blue. A white, blue, mauve and burgundy oriental rug covered the floor. On it sat a plush settee and two wing chairs, all covered in dark blue on dark blue embroidered satin. To one side of the settee was an oak secretary and a bookcase with a few books. Through the open door, a king sized bed could be seen, covered with a white comforter. Over the bed was a picture of two men entwined in a sensual embrace. Jim was amused to see that most of the artwork scattered about the suite depicted nude men in various erotic poses.

"A bit overdone, don't you think?" Jim asked, his voice dry. He was surprised when he was forcibly spun around. He grinned as his arms were suddenly full of golden manhood and a warm, moist mouth plastered itself on his.

:We are being watched and listened to.:

:I thought I heard a camera.: Jim took advantage of their position to nuzzle Morgan's neck, slowly licking the muscle that ran from his shoulder to his ear.

:W-we need to make a good show.: Morgan gasped as teeth nibbled on an earlobe.

Suddenly those teeth were removed.

:I'm not sure I can do this. All the way, I mean.:

:Don't worry. You won't notice it.: It was a good thing Morgan was telepathic because suddenly his mouth was possessed. :I'm not sure I will, either.: Morgan moaned as Jim released his mouth.

Jim pulled back enough to grasp the hem of Morgan's shirt. With one swift move, he pulled the shirt over Morgan's head, tousling silken locks before burying his hands in them.

* * *

After watching Jim and Morgan until they were out of sight, Henry Lancelot went straight to the library. Pulling back the head of a bust sitting on an ornate, oak desk, he twisted a knob set inside. Behind him, a section of the bookcase slid aside revealing a staircase. Down, Henry went, threading his way through the tunnels cut into the cliff face by centuries of wind and sea action. Entering a certain door, Henry went straight to a bank of surveillance screens along one wall. Standing there was a hard looking man and woman.

"Why did you bring them here?" the woman demanded, pointing to the screen that pictured Jim and Morgan. "It's much too soon for this. We don't know anything about them. They could be undercover cops."

"I have to agree with Belinda, Henry," the man said, dryly as Henry looked to him for support.

"I should receive answers to my queries in a few hours," Henry told them, archly. "If they are not who they say they are, it will be easier to deal with them when they're here. Besides, George, do you know any undercover officer who'd go that far?" He pointed to the screen, where Jim and Morgan were making love.

George tersely pointed out that some government agencies would make its undercover people do just that, "If it's the only way to get a conviction for a more serious charge -- such as stealing several million dollars worth of illegal drugs from the federal storage lockup."

Henry smirked at him. "Take it from one who knows, George. There is genuine enjoyment there. The FBI may make it's people perform sex acts during a case, but they can't make them like it. Those two are obviously long time lovers."

* * *

Jim woke up to a burst of sound coming from somewhere outside of the room. Listening with Sentinel hearing, he realized someone in the next room was watching a porn video. He stretched and nudged Morgan, who was laying, sprawled across both the bed and his lover. Morgan groaned and rolled over, still asleep. With a chuckle, Jim got up and headed into the bathroom to take a shower.

When he emerged some time later, naked except for a towel wrapped around his waist, he found Morgan sitting on the bed watching him with evident interest in his golden eyes.

Morgan rose to cross the room and hugged Jim tightly, kissing him hotly.

Jim gasped, pulling back, slightly. "Don't start something we can't finish, Sunshine."

"Mmmm. We can finish it," Morgan murmured, tugging lightly at the towel that was all that kept Jim safe from him.

"Not before cocktail hour," Jim protested, weakly. His body was already betraying him. It wanted Morgan. Fiercely.

Morgan's luscious lips formed a moue of protest, but he gave in. After stealing a teasing kiss with a lot of tongue.

By the time Morgan got out of shower, a servant had arrived to deliver sets of clothing and to warn them that they had 15 minutes to get ready for cocktail hour. Morgan approved the taste of whoever picked out the clothes. The tone was casual chic. Jim's outfit consisted of off white cotton chinos, a baby blue short sleeved polo shirt, off white blazer, and pale blue socks. Jim was very appreciative of the clothes chosen for Morgan as well. He had a pair of fawn colored cotton slacks, a pale yellow shirt with a matching jacket and socks. He pulled his hair back and secured it with a gold clasp of Celtic design that he'd brought with him. It was almost unnoticeable in his silken hair. Morgan gave Jim a final kiss and they headed down for cocktail hour.

Henry was at the pool, standing by the bar, fondling a young man Jim was certain must be underage when they entered. The look in his eye when he spotted Jim and Morgan was one of avid interest -- for both men, Jim was surprised to note.

As the cocktail hour progressed, Henry confined his drooling to Morgan, much to Jim's disgust. Jim was sipping an excellent, imported beer when they were joined by another man and a woman. With his heightened sense of smell, the Sentinel was hard put not to notice the reek of cocaine use on the woman.

:These are Mulder and Scully's rogue agents.:

Only long practice at undercover work, kept Jim from reacting overtly to Morgan's telepathic comment. Inwardly, he was jubilant.

:Both of them?: He felt Morgan's assent. :The girl's an addict. We need to tell Sandburg...:

:Done, Pet.:

:You could give a guy a complex, here, Sunshine.:

:Sorry.:

"This is George Marshall and Belinda Graves," Henry was saying, oblivious to the mental conversation going on in front of him. "They are silent partners in my little operation."

"We are also why Henry needed to bring you here," George stated, staring at Jim with cold blue eyes. "We will all be the ones to approve you for a buyer."

"Do you also own this mansion?" Morgan asked, taking a sip of his own non-acholic drink The last thing the telepath needed was to loose control of his gift, so he rarely drank much. "It's quite nice. But not very large."

Weaving a bit as she stood beside George, Belinda giggled. "The place is bigger than it looks."

"Shut up, Belinda!" George snapped, yanking her arm, angrily. She pouted but obeyed the order.

Keeping eye contact with Henry, Morgan once again initiated contact with Jim.

:The drug lab is situated in the caverns below the mansion.:

:Probably the hangout of smugglers for centuries. You had better...:

:Don't worry, Pet. I've already told Blair.:

:Should've known. Why did I bother to come along, anyway?:

:You make nice window dressing.:

Henry patted Jim on the back as the detective choked on his drink.

* * *

Hillside Friday, 7:15 pm 

* * *

On a hillside overlooking the estate, Mulder sat on the hood of their car watching the mansion through a pair of binoculars. Beside him his partner leaned against the car, hands stuffed in the pockets of her coat. It was chilly there, so close to the ocean. The agents looked up when they heard their names called in Simon Bank's distinctive voice.

"We've gotten confirmation on your rogue agents." Simon told them the names Morgan had relayed to Blair.

"I remember something about a George Marshall, Mulder," Scully said, sounding surprised.

"George Marshall and his partner, Belinda Graves, botched a kidnaping investigation in '85." Having an eidictic memory had come in handy more than once. "They focused their investigation on the gardener who turned out to be innocent. When it came time to pay the money, they weren't as careful as they should have been and the ruse they were using was discovered. The victim was killed and they never caught the real kidnappers. Marshall had political ambitions so they avoided being fired out right, but they were knocked down several grades and transferred to the east coast."

"Looks like they managed to make their way partly back up the ranks," Simon said, frowning. He wondered what they had on someone to even be allowed to stay in the FBI after that fiasco. "Well, according to Jim, Belinda Graves is an addict."

"I'll bet that's why they started stealing the drugs in the first place," Mulder smirked. "Did they say anything else? Like where the drugs might be?"

"There is some type of lab set up in the caverns below the mansion," Simon said, somewhat smugly. His people had gotten more information than the Feds had even known existed. "They think they can find enough evidence to put paid to this little operation down there. They're going to check it out later tonight."

"I don't like involving a civilian in this any further than we have to," Scully protested. "We can get that evidence when we raid the place."

"Maybe," Mulder commented, idly fingering the strap of the binoculars. "If those caverns are extensive, they might be able to get away with the evidence before we can get there."

"They might also have it rigged to blow," Simon suggested, removing his glasses and pinching the bridge of his nose. He wanted to pull Morgan out of there, but they really didn't have a choice. The man had already proved his worth, but nothing he'd told them was admissible in court. Telling the judge that Morgan got the information directly from the minds of the people involved wasn't going to cut it. They needed hard evidence.

Scully sighed and reluctantly agreed with the men. "All the more reason to be extra careful."

"They're going to keep in contact while they search," Simon reassured her. He only wished he felt as certain as he sounded that it was possible. He just didn't know enough about psychic talents to even begin to make a guess. To him, it was all foolishness. But he had to admit, if anyone could do it, he was glad it was not himself.

As darkness fell, Mulder and Scully broke out sandwiches and a thermos of coffee and had a leisurely dinner under the diamond strewn velvet of the night sky. Just as they finished, Mulder's cell phone rang. It was AD Kelsey and the news was not good.

Due to an inexperienced detective's overeagerness, their mole in Joey Fuscorelli's family had been arrested. There was no one to field any questions about a Jim Edwards. Their cover story was blown before it could be used. A concerned Kelsey told Mulder and Scully to abort mission.

Mulder told him, he'd try, but, "Our undercover operatives are currently in a very delicate situation, sir. If we disturb them, it could cost them their lives."

"Well, get them out of there as soon as you can," Kelsey tersely informed the agent. "Nothing you've told me so far is worth the risk of their lives. Now that we know who to watch, we can pick this up at a later date."

Mulder agreed then hung up. He stood and hurried to the car containing Simon Banks and Blair Sandburg, bringing Scully up to date as he walked.

Blair paled upon hearing the news. "We can't get a hold of them. Something's wrong with the connection."

Simon, a veteran of cases like these, looked less concerned than he felt. "We shouldn't worry just yet. They're probably at dinner. They can't contact us while they're in a room full of people." Simon wanted to believe that. Even though he thought that Morgan could contact them at any time. He idly wished he knew more about telepathy.

"We'll just have to wait," Scully said, green eyes wide.

Mulder bit his lip. "What I wouldn't give to be an actual telepath during times like these," he idly complained.

"That's not all it's cracked up to be," a worried Blair muttered, unaware that Mulder had heard him. The agent looked at him with sleepy hazel eyes that held more than a hint of suspicion.

* * *

While Jim kept an eye on George Marshall and Belinda Graves, Morgan wondered about the poolroom. He barely noticed the admiring glances he was getting from the other guests as he walked. Not that he would've cared anyway. Morgan was used to such looks. But knowing the truth behind people's faces kept him from getting too swelled a head.

Henry spotted him after a few minutes and, bored with playing host, he caught up with the object of his desire when Morgan stopped to admire a gilded statue sitting in a niche in a corner.

"You are much more beautiful than that piece of cold metal," Henry whispered, his breath hot on Morgan's neck. Morgan ignored him as he tossed off the rest of his drink and sat the glass down beside the statue. "You are a golden god," Henry purred. He placed his hand on the small of Morgan's back, ignoring the way Morgan stiffened. "Can I get you something?"

"You can get your hand off me," Morgan told him, icily correct. His voice was strongly accented.

"I can make you much happier than Jim Edwards. What is it?" he snarled to an unfortunate young man who came up to him.

"You have an important phone call, sir," the youth said, eyes downcast. "It's one you've been waiting for."

"Damn," Henry muttered. To Morgan, he said, "I'll be right back, sweetheart. Don't go away."

He didn't seem to notice that Morgan deftly avoided his attempt to caress Morgan's cheek.

"In your dreams, you twit," Morgan muttered as the man walked away.

The youth giggled at the taunt. Mortified, he clapped both hands over his mouth. He relaxed as Morgan winked at him.

Morgan resumed his seemingly aimless wondering about the room. He kept his attention on Jim. He was so focused on his lover, in fact, that he didn't notice that he'd picked up another admirer. One larger and more muscular than Henry Lancelot.

In one corner of the large airy room, delicate screens, potted trees and bushes had been strategically placed for the illusion of a private bower. As Morgan passed near this bower, his attention divided between listening to his lover and "talking" telepathically to Blair, he failed to notice the hand that reached out and grabbed him. He was unceremoniously yanked into the semi-privacy of the bower. One arm was wrapped around his waist to hold his slender back pressed against a body bulkier than Jim Ellison's. The other meaty paw was clamped over his mouth.

"Don't say a word," a harsh voice rasped in his ear. "I watched you with that idiot, Henry. You're much too good for him. It shall be my pleasure to tame you."

Because the touch was so unexpected, Morgan had been momentarily stunned into submission. It was an event that could not possibly last. Even as he was turned and the bigger man pressed his mouth onto Morgan's, the blond was regaining his mental equilibrium. As his mouth was released, he could feel hands on his shirt, tearing it open, fumbling at the waistband of his trousers. Quite frankly, it pissed him off. 

"Not bloody likely, mate," he growled, golden eyes narrowed to mere slits in anger.

* * *

Jim was talking to Belinda Graves, trying to get her to tell him more about the labs in the caverns below the mansion. Unfortunately, George Marshall wouldn't leave them alone. This forced Jim to be more circumspect than he might have otherwise been. Unlike Graves, Marshall wasn't using as far as Sentinel senses could detect.

In the back of Jim's mind, he was aware of Morgan's scrutiny. It warmed the detective's heart to know that his lover was keeping an eye on him. His heart constricted as that awareness suddenly stopped.

Instantly, Jim flung out his enhanced sense of hearing. Trying to locate one of the two heartbeats he knew -- well, by heart. Just as Jim found the sound he'd been searching for, he flinched as his sensitive ears were assaulted by the, to him, anyway, loud sounds of crashing pottery, tearing paper and the thud of a human body hitting something hard.

Piggybacking his sight to his hearing, Jim saw a big burly man lying amid the wreckage of a screen, trees, bushes, and broken pottery. Standing close by, legs spread and aggression pouring off him, was Morgan. It didn't take Jim long to get to his side.

"Are you all right?" he asked, looking him over carefully. His jaw clenched as he took in the torn shirt and slight bruising around Morgan's mouth and neck.

"'m fine," Morgan spat out. "But if another man s'much as looks at me ..." Morgan didn't complete the threat. He really didn't need to. Almost everybody there got the idea and suddenly remembered things they needed to do. Elsewhere. Right now.

"What the hell happened?" George demanded, kneeling by the unconscious man.

"You are not a little toy boy. Are you?" Belinda hissed.

Morgan looked at her with disdain and then ignored her. Jim could hear her heart race in reaction to the slight.

"He laid hands on me," Morgan told Jim. "And I wasn't expecting it."

Instantly, Jim's attention was refocused on his lover. He heard Morgan's racing heartbeat. Felt the faint coolness of his skin caused by incipient shock. Jim snagged a young man hovering close by and sent him for a whisky. When the youth returned, he told Morgan to drink it.

"I don' like..."

"I don't care. Drink it, Sunshine," Jim insisted. Morgan shot him a look and did as he was told.

"I don't know who you are, but you're dead," Belinda snarled, pulling her gun and aiming it at Morgan. Most of her anger was from being so utterly dismissed by Morgan.

"Stop it, Belinda," George snapped, grabbing the gun. "Franchon has been warned about forcing himself on people. I'm a little surprised that someone like you were able to deal with him, though," he said, looking at Morgan with speculation in his eyes.

Just then, Henry came rushing up. He demanded to know what was going on. With a disgusted look, George told him. Henry looked at Jim and said, "There's something funny going on here, George. I was on the phone with my source. There has never been a Jim Edwards working for Joey Fuscorelli."

"Isn't that interesting," George purred, his own gun now at the ready. "Let's go, gentlemen. We need to talk."

:Can you get a hold of Blair?:

:Not yet. It's all I can do to talk to you, right now.:

:Then follow my lead, Sunshine. I've got an idea...:

In Henry's office, Jim and Morgan sat and watched as Belinda screamed at Henry. The rogue FBI agent was rapidly loosing it. They both wondered why George let her rant like that.

"You were doing nothing but thinking with your cock!!!!!!!" she screeched, her face so red, Jim feared she was headed for a stroke. "How could you bring them here. You jeopardized this whole operation."

"Shut the hell up!" Henry yelled back at her. "I have it covered. I'm the one who found out they were lying. Or did that little fact slip your drug addled mind."

George caught her around the waist as Belinda lunged for Henry. "Let go of me!"

He slammed her into a chair and told her to shut up. Something about his tone of voice must've reached her because she shut up. "What did you find out, Henry?"

"My informant told me that Fuscorelli never had an employee named Jim Edwards nor did he have any of his people suddenly outed," Henry reported, scowling at Jim and Morgan.

"Of course he doesn't. We told you that to buy some time." Slightly amused, George asked Jim why? 

"Tell me something, Mr. Marshall. Do you honestly think Henry would take someone like me seriously?" Morgan asked, eyebrows raised questioningly.

"You don't believe that load of crap. Do you, George?" Henry asked, incredulously. "I mean -- look at him. He's a plaything."

"I see what you mean," George frowned at his colleague.

"We have a relationship based on mutual love," Jim interrupted him with a smile. "Sometimes he takes me like I took him this afternoon."

Belinda looked at Jim with a slightly stunned expression. "You knew we were watching?"

"We spotted the cameras right away," Morgan told her, smugly. "Very sloppy."

"By the way," Jim added. "I'm the muscle. Morgan is the brains of this outfit."

"Him? The brains? Don't make me laugh," Henry replied, snarkily.

Morgan looked at him coldly. "Don't push your luck, Henry. I may be the intelligence but that doesn't mean I can't hurt you if you make me angry." Thinking about Franchon's unconscious body in the pool room, Henry quickly redirected his attention elsewhere. Morgan told them that they'd decided to use Jim as a figurehead after hearing about Henry's predilection for pretty blond men.

"So," Jim said after a few moments. "What happens now?

George, Belinda and Henry traded looks, coming to an unspoken agreement. George said, "We will have to talk about this."

Ringing for a guard, he ordered that Jim and Morgan be taken back to their suite.

* * *

Simon and Blair were alone eating dinner when Blair suddenly stiffened. Simon breathed a sigh of relief. Morgan was well enough to contact Blair. That was good. Swallowing the last of his dinner, Simon poured himself another cup of coffee and sat back to wait.

He waited for quite a while. Relatively speaking, of course. Telepathic communication may not take as long as verbal communication, but it still takes time to relay information.

"You okay?" he asked as Blair's posture eased, signaling an end to the conversation.

"Yeah, I'm fine. This mind reading stuff is giving me a headache," Blair sighed, rubbing his eyes. "Get Mulder and Scully, please, Captain? I'd rather only say this once."

When the two agents returned with Simon, he related what he'd been told about the blowing of Jim and Morgan's cover. "They said that they think things can still go as planned."

"What happened?" Simon asked more concerned about his people than the plans right now. "Why did Morgan cut you off like he did?"

"Morgan had a little trouble with a guest who wouldn't take no for an answer," Blair said with a grimace. "Actually, that blew their cover before Henry told Marshall and Graves about Fussy Joey."

"Was he hurt?" Scully asked.

"No. He's okay."

"What happened?" Mulder asked hoping Jim didn't have to hurt someone protecting Morgan. He gaped in surprise at Blair when they were told what Morgan had done. "Chandler? The same man who was so uneasy at the mall?"

"Same one, man," Blair smirked at the agent. "He's full of surprises."

"I'll say," Simon muttered, darkly. "The next time Morgan talks to you, tell them to wrap this up as quickly as possible. I want them out of there."

"I will, Simon," Blair said, sounding tired. He didn't object when Simon ordered him to rest.

* * *

In their suite, Jim and Morgan lay entwined on the bed. To anyone watching, they appeared to be resting. In actuality, Morgan was telepathically "talking" to Blair. He then mentally reached out and caressed the link that connected him to his soul's other half. The response was immediate.

:What's up, Sunshine?:

:You're getting better at this, Pet.:

Jim drew him closer. :I've had plenty of practice during this case. Did you get Blair?:

:I did.: Morgan informed Jim of Kersey's orders to Scully and Mulder. Then he told Jim that Simon suggested they wrap up as quickly as possible. Jim agreed with his captain. 

:Can you fix it so we can sneak out of here after things quiet down?:

:I'm not sure. It depends on how many people and how much range is involved.:

:What will you do? Make someone turn off the camera?:

:That would be too revealing. No, I just have them see what I want them to see. In this case, our being in this room, asleep.:

:Of course, that won't work if there's a shift change.:

:That's why we should do this just after shift change.:

:Smart man.:

:I try. After all, I am the brains of this outfit.:

Jim had a hard time not laughing out loud.

* * *

4:30 am 

* * *

Hours before dawn, when everyone was asleep except the few guards, Jim and Morgan woke up from their nap. Before getting up, Morgan tampered with the minds of their watchers. The two men then dressed in dark clothing and snuck out of the suite, making their way downstairs. In Henry's office Jim stared at his lover in painful shock.

"He didn't? He couldn't have? Did he?"

Confused, Morgan looked at him. "What's wrong?"

"Please, tell me he didn't?" Jim begged.

Morgan looked down at the desktop. One slender golden hand rested on the head of the bronze bust situated on one corner of the desk. "I'll admit it's a little unusual..."

"No, Sunshine. It's not. It's known by almost everybody my age and maybe a few people Blair's age, as well." Jim could tell Morgan still didn't understand. "Did you watch any television in the sixties?"

"I don't watch much television now, Jim," Morgan pointed out, drolly.

Jim tried a different tactic. "Do you know who Batman is?"

"Vaguely. Isn't he some kind of comic book hero?"

"There used to be this television series called 'Batman' staring Adam West and Bert Ward. To get to the batcave they had to go through Bruce Wayne's office."

"Who's -- never mind," Morgan sighed. "It's hard enough keeping up with governmental changes. How do you expect me to keep up with literary changes."

"This is hardly literary," Jim protested. "It's not that important, Sunshine. It's just that they had to lift the head of a bust sitting on the desk and turn the knob. A section of the bookcase would slide back and they'd go down the batpoles."

"I guess someone thought it was cute to do that here," Morgan said, dryly. He pulled the head of the bust back, revealing the knob.

"Oh god," Jim moaned as Morgan turned the knob and a section of the bookcase slid back.

"You're in luck, Pet. No batpoles," Morgan teased him. He laughed lightly at Jim's scathing glare.

Carefully they made their way down the tunnels, Jim listening for people while Morgan played Guide to keep him from zoning. On occasion, they would pass people. When they did, and were unable to find a hiding place, Morgan would make the people not register the sight of intruders. But he was getting tired. This was difficult work and it had been far too many years since he'd had to stretch himself this much for this long.

"I've got to start exercising my talent more," he muttered as they crept along.

"Just mention it to Blair," Jim told him with a smile in his voice. "He'll be glad to think up a few tests for you."

"I'll keep that in mind."

Jim laughed silently at his droll response.

Finally they found what they were looking for. An office type room with a one-way glass that overlooked the actual lab where the drugs were made. With Morgan keeping watch, Jim tackled the computer. Within a short time, he found the information they needed to convict George Marshall, Belinda Graves and Henry Lancelot of making and distributing illegal substances. Not to mention, several well connected contacts of theirs. Pulling out a diskette Blair had given Jim before they'd left, he copied the information, put the diskette in his pocket, buttoning the flap to keep it safe. Then, he logged off the computer and stood.

"Hey! Who're you? You're not supposed to be here."

"Oh shit," Morgan muttered, punching the man unconscious. But the damage had been done. An alarm sounded somewhere in the distance.

"What happened?" Jim demanded as they hurried through the tunnels.

"My fault," Morgan confessed. "I was telling Blair to start the raid. I must've missed him."

"You're too tired, Sunshine," Jim said, easily following their trail back to the office.

* * *

"Captain," Blair called out, climbing out of the car's back seat where he'd been taking a much needed nap. "Morgan says they've got the information. Start the raid."

Simon alerted the agents who called it in. As they began to go in, Simon collared Blair.

"Where do you think you're going, Sandburg?"

"With you, man." Blair was bouncing, he was so excited. Simon said, quite simply, no. "Aw, c'mon, Captain. I've been on these things before."

"Sandburg, I am not answering to Jim if you get yourself hurt."

"C'mon, Captain," Blair wheedled. "I promise to stick with you. I can't miss this."

With a sigh, Simon did what he knew he'd do. He gave in. "You stay with me like we're Siamese twins. Got it?"

"Got it," Blair nodded, sincerely. His blue eyes were dancing with excitement.

* * *

Jim and Morgan managed to fight their way out of the caverns to the mansion. Just as they exited the office, they ran into Belinda who was even more strung out than before. Too angry to see straight, the female half of the rogue team shot wildly. Jim swung behind the door, ducking. The bullets tore up the door over his head. Then there was silence. Suddenly, two more shots broke the silence.

"It's okay," Morgan whispered to Jim.

Peeking out from behind the door, Jim saw Dana Scully's welcome red head as she checked a fallen Belinda Graves. "Damn."

"Dead?" Jim asked, already knowing that the rogue agent's heart had stopped.

"Yes. You two okay?"

"Tired, but fine," Morgan said, running a hand through his sweat soaked hair.

"You had no choice, Agent Scully," Jim told her, taking the time to check his gun's load. 

"I know. But I'm still a doctor," Scully muttered.

"Trust me, Dana," Morgan told her, touching her arm in sympathy. "As long as it never gets easy, you're safe. When it gets easy, change jobs."

She gave him a wan smile. "I'll try to remember that."

"We'd better get out of here," Jim suggested. Scully and Morgan both thought that was an imminently practical idea.

Grabbing Morgan's hand, the detective dragged the exhausted telepath toward the pool area and safety. Somewhere along the way, Jim and Morgan were separated from Scully. They didn't have time to be concerned about her. The diskette had to be kept safe, which meant Jim had to get out of the mansion.

The lovers were in the pool room, nearly to the door when a shot rang out. Jim fell, pulling Morgan down with him. The fall saved Morgan's life as George Marshall then shot where Morgan had been standing. Simon and Blair arrived on the scene before George could shoot a third time. Pushing Blair behind him, Simon ordered Marshall to drop the gun. When Marshall took aim at him, instead, the Captain shot Marshall in the chest, killing him.

Blair rushed over to Jim and Morgan's side as Simon made sure Marshall was dead.

"Is he all right?"

Morgan looked up at him. It took him a moment to verbally form an answer in English. "He's only been creased." Standing, he looked at Simon and the body at his feet. Simon felt his blood run cold. A sensation he'd never actually experienced before. And hoped never to again. "Get Jim and Blair out of here, Simon."

"No, man," Blair started to protest.

"Yes, Blair," Simon overrode his protest.

Blair was so astonished at Simon using his first name, he forgot what he was protesting about. With Blair's help Simon got Jim to his feet and into a fireman's carry.

At the door, Blair looked back for Morgan. The blond was standing in the middle of the room. His hair was blowing as though in a breeze. But there was no breeze in the room. A shiver ran down Blair's spine before he turned to followed Simon outside. Somehow he knew that Morgan was angry. The anthropologist had never seen him truly angry before. He wondered just what the man was going to do and how he was going to do it.

As they ran out of the house, Simon and Blair yelled for everybody to evacuate the area. For some reason, Blair added the warning that there were bombs and everybody began a mass exodus. Just as the last man got out, the mansion seemed to explode in flames.

* * *

While Scully helped the EMT's with the wounded, Mulder took a quick look around. He found Simon and Blair near where a now awake Jim was being checked over. Mulder asked how Jim was. Blair told him Jim was fine except for a slight concussion

"I haven't seen Chandler," Mulder said, nodding. "I hope he got out before the place went up."

Mulder had been an agent too long to miss the looks Jim and Blair traded as the medic left them alone. Something was up.

"Don't worry, Agent Mulder," Jim said, softly. His gaze was turned to the building behind Mulder. "Morgan's all right."

"I suppose you know that the same way Sandburg kept in contact with the two of you while you were inside?" Mulder asked. At Jim's enigmatic smile, he nodded. "I thought so. So, which one of you is telepathic?"

"How did you know that?" Simon couldn't help but ask. He was impressed by the agent's easy acceptance of the impossible.

Mulder said he hadn't known for sure. "I only suspected since neither Scully or myself could remember Ellison or Chandler taking any kind of TWO way radio with them into the mansion. Yet, Chandler and Sandburg were having two way conversations. So, who is it?"

"Morgan," Blair said, softly.

Jim asked that Mulder keep this information a secret. "Morgan Chandler's life could be in danger if the wrong people learn that he's telepathic."

"I understand better than you can possible know," Mulder said, with a quirk to his mouth.

"Morgan trusts you, Mulder. Otherwise you would never have been told," Blair said, as the EMT's returned to prepare Jim for transport, despite the detective's objections.

"How do you know that," Curious, Mulder asked.

Blair pointed toward the house as he got into the ambulance to go to the hospital with Jim. 

Mulder turned and his jaw dropped in astonishment. Walking serenely out of the burning house, without a single scorch mark on him was Morgan Chandler. 

"How is m'Jim, Simon?" Morgan asked when he reached them, his voice muted and slurred with exhaustion.

"He's fine, Morgan, except for a slight concussion," Simon told him. "Better than you, in fact. You look like hell."

With the burning building back lighting them Mulder wince at that phrase.

Morgan gave him a wan smile. "I have no' been s'bloody tired in ages."

Eaten up with curiosity, Mulder butted in. "How did you manage to walk through a burning house without even getting scorched?"

Morgan shrugged and said he didn't know. "The fire isn't really that hot. It seems hot because it's s'large. Aside from the building itself, the only things burning are the furnishings."

Mulder asked what had happened. Again Morgan said he didn't know. He'd been inside when the place seemed to catch fire all at once.

Just then, Scully ran up and dragged Mulder off to one side.

"Mulder, this is the strangest fire I've ever seen," she whispered, urgently. "It's cooler than it should be. Nothing placed into the fire would catch. Not even the most flammable material. I want some samples of what's left when it's burned out, Mulder."

"You're a pathologist, Scully," Mulder reminded her with a smirk. "Thinking of expanding your scientific field beyond medicine?"

"No, Mulder. I'll get someone to do the tests while I watch," Scully tersely informed him. "This fire is fascinating."

Mulder never realized that he'd quite forgotten his suspicions about Morgan. Simon just shook his head as Mulder and Scully walked away arguing as usual.

"I don't suppose I could take you along the next time I have to explain to the Chief of Police about one of Jim's cases, can I?"

Morgan grinned tiredly at Simon. "Maybe, Simon."

"It would certainly make my job easier." Simon said, before leading the young man to his car so he could take him to the hospital to wait for Jim.

Epilog:

As soon as he got settled in at the loft, Jim demanded to be told about what had happened after he'd been knocked unconscious. No one would tell him while he was at the hospital and his frustration was killing him. Blair and Morgan took turns relating the tale.

"It was surprisingly easy to get Mulder to accept what he'd been told," Morgan said with a shrug. "Especially since it was all true."

"Hey, wait a minute, man," Blair protested. "How could it be true? You didn't have anything to do with that fire -- did you?'

"Yes, Blair, I did," Morgan said, stunning both Sentinel and Guide. "I told you I had more secrets. Well, that's one of them."

Morgan explained that he had the ability to start fires with the power of his mind. "I just don't have much control over it. When someone I care about is hurt or killed, I lose what little control I have. Whoever I am angry at, burns."

"Like George or Brenda?" Jim said, frowning as he concentrated on what Morgan was saying.

"Like George or Brenda," Morgan readily agreed. "I've never understood how I can make something burn like that. All I know is, get me angry enough, and I will set something on fire. If I can't burn whoever made me angry, I will set something harmless on fire. If I try to ignore it, it comes out during nightmares. I forgot once, not long ago, and set my room on fire. Scared the hell out of Jeff."

"I'll bet it did," Blair said, nodding.

Morgan explained that he truly didn't understand why he wasn't scorched when he walked through the fire like he had. He had done it before with similar results. "That was why I hadn't bothered to tell you to evacuate the building. I knew that no one would be hurt since the people I was mad at were either dead or out of the building. In fact, the only reason that it got as hot as it did, was because of the size of the fire. A house has more to burn than a person, after all."

Blair whistled in awe. "Man, I can think of some experiments I'd like to try."

"Uh, Sandburg," Jim said, slowly. He looked extremely serious as he met Blair's deep blue eyes. "I think you might want to reconsider that."

"Why?" Blair asked, puzzled.

"Just think about it, Chief. Do you really want to make him that mad?"

Blair thought about it seriously for a minute. "You're right. I'm not feeling especially suicidal, right now. We'll postpone the experiments. Okay?"

Morgan solemnly agreed. His dignity was then shot to hell, when he yawned.

"You still tired, Sunshine?" Jim asked, sympathetically.

"Yeah. You know, Blair, this Guide stuff is hard."

"It is?" Blair asked, genuinely surprised.

"You don't think so?" Morgan asked, amused.

"Well, no. Not really."

"Must be because you're the Guide," Morgan said, slowly. He had a quirky expression on his face. His eyes dancing merrily as he teased his friend. "Jim is genetically programed to be a Sentinel. Maybe you're genetically programed to be a Guide?"

"You know more about this than you've let on," Jim demanded. "Don't you?"

Morgan shrugged and gave him a wide-eyed innocent look. "Who me?"

"Give it up, Jim," Blair groaned, trying hard not to laugh. "Take it from a professional obfuscator. You won't get a straight answer."

He cracked up as Jim swiped at him with a pillow.

~Finis~


End file.
